The Orphan's Tale (12 page)

For Malet, filling in for M. le Prefet, although technically a great honor, was ordinarily a time of tedium.
He theoretically enjoyed without reservation all the Prefect's rights, privileges and powers throughout the Île de France during such times, but, mindful of the folly of abusing such power, he usually carried out his duties with diplomacy and restraint.

It would be different this time.
He had a criminal to catch, he knew just how to go about it, and no one was going to stop him.

WARPING THE LOOM

"
Good afternoon, Archet," Malet said crisply. "Here's my card. I have no patience for your little games today: look it over and don't waste my time!" He waited in the vestibule while Constable Archet, looking unaccustomedly pale and more than usually vexed, glanced over his card and entered his name in the logbook.

The vexation did not impress Malet.
He had caught the man in the act of embezzling candle-ends-they were usually sold to the public and the proceeds returned to the Prefecture's budget-and ordered him to stop. Now Archet bore him a deep and lasting grudge. The grudge did not trouble Malet at all.

He signed in now, pocketed his card, and strode down the main aisle of the anteroom toward the offices of the Prefect, pausing along the way to speak to Jacques Guillart, the Chief Archivist of the Prefecture.

"Will you be able to obtain what I requested this morning?" Malet asked.

Sergeant Guillart transferred his smile from the paper he was filling with a neat, elegant script to Malet's face.
"I was able to obtain part of it, sir," he said. "I placed the collection of Inspector de Saint-Légère's reports on your desk. I did weed out some that were completely banal-the report of the mysterious disappearance of a shoe, for example-but I gave you a fair sample of his work. I think you'll find it interesting: I always enjoy reading his reports."

"
Very good," said Malet. "And what of the rest?"

Guillart lowered his voice slightly.
"As far as Dracquet goes," he said, "That'll take a little time. I have flagged some information that I think will come readily to hand, but it'll take a while to dig through the archives and pull out everything that refers to him. Do you have any parameters for me to work in?"

Malet considered and finally nodded.
"Yes," he said. "I don't want ancient history. Go back no further than five years. And I want to see only the most believable connections."

Guillart nodded.
"Just as I thought," he said. "I will get on it right away."

"
Thank you," said Malet. He doffed his hat and, pausing, said, "And Guillart-?"

"
Yes, Chief Inspector?"

"
Please handle this by yourself. It's extremely important."

"
That goes without saying," said Sergeant Guillart.

Malet's thoughtful frown suddenly gave way to a warm smile.
"You're an excellent fellow, my dear Guillart!" he said. "We would be lost without you!"

Guillart laughed and shook his head as Malet went on back toward the Prefect's offices.

The Chamberlain, Geraud Clerel, intercepted him halfway back, as was his habit, and escorted him to the doors of his office, giving him along the way a summation of the visitors who had come by while Malet was busy at the morgue. He was a portly man of portentous demeanor, proud of his gentlemanly appearance and prouder of the prestige attending the office of Prefect of Police.

"
I have been informed of that hazard, and have directed that the proper attention be given to the problem of apprehending these thieves before they extend their depredations to include trousers. Do you feel my coat is in danger, then, sir?"

Since Malet had said this without smiling, Clerel took the question seriously.
"Any fine garments are in jeopardy, M. l'Inspecteur," he said.

"
Ah!" said Malet. "Then, my dear Clerel, you had best remain indoors. And perhaps I would do well to dress from the gleanings of the ragpickers."

Clerel settled the overcoat across his arm and said with a benign smile,
"You need not take so drastic a step, I assure you, M. Chief Inspector! And I can't conceive that such creatures would have the temerity to attack Me. I pursue a path governed by prudence, and never venture out when it is inadvisable."

"
Very wise.  I am persuaded that there is much you could teach us all, were we only willing to pay proper attention."

Clerel, who would have found it hard to believe that he could be an object of satire, nodded and replied,
"I would be willing to impart any knowledge that might benefit the Force, as Monsieur is well aware."

"
You're an ornament to your calling," Malet said as he drew out the chair behind the Prefect's desk, deftly flipped his coattails aside, and sat.

He took out his notebook, opened it to his latest notations, and then froze as Clerel said,
"And I must advise the Chief Inspector that His Excellency, Monseigneur the Minister of Police, called today to-"

"
What?"

Clerel looked reproachfully at Malet, who had never interrupted him before.
"-to offer the invitation to partake of a nuncheon tomorrow," he finished with a bow. "Does the Chief Inspector wish me to bear a reply to His Excellency?"

Malet's lips twitched, but he inclined his head regally and said,
"Your kindness in so doing, M. Clerel, would be greatly appreciated." He paused for effect and then added, as he took up a pen, "And M. le Comte will doubtless recognize the compliment implicit in sending yourself as a messenger."

"
Then I shall depart at once," Clerel said with another bow.

"
But avoid the coat-snatchers," Malet said gravely.

"
Indeed, I shall summon a hackney," said Clerel.

"
Very prudent of you," said Malet. "How shocking it would be for Madame la Comtesse to be confronted with a naked man not of her acquaintance! And how uncomfortable for you!" He lifted a demure countenance to Clerel's suddenly suspicious regard and then watched as the man bowed once more and made his majestic way out of the office.

Malet waited until the door was firmly closed before indulging in a quiet spell of laughter.
Filling in for M. le Prefet had its compensations, and one of them was Geraud Clerel.

Another
, and more dangerous, compensation was the power of the position itself. Malet, a thoroughgoing autocrat, had no illusions concerning the seductive nature of power. He kept a strict accounting of himself. In this case, however, he thought, scanning his notebook, he would be justified in using it.

He went down his list of items to consider in pursuing Constant Dracquet.
He had already requested the search of the Police archives-Guillart had that well in hand-and he would have the man's house shadowed around the clock. He had decided it would be unwise to use men from the 18th arrondissement, especially in view of his suspicions concerning Chief Inspector Guerin.

Charles de Saint
-Légère had said a few things that had confirmed Malet's suspicions regarding the relationship between Chief Inspector Guerin and Constant Dracquet. It would be interesting to see how Dracquet would handle another Police officer living within eight blocks of his house.

Should he consider contacting the Criminal Investigations division, known as the Sureté, for assistance?

Malet sat back and thought carefully. It was not a question that he wanted to consider. He and the Sureté, and its director, Vidocq, got along with all the cordiality of two cats meeting in a gutter.

Shortly after Malet's arrival in
Paris from Picardy, his skill at fighting criminals with their own weapons had drawn Vidocq's admiring attention. Francois Eugene Vidocq had been the first to formulate the idea that it takes a thief to catch a thief, and he put it into successful practice. The Sureté of that time was peopled by ex-criminals of dubious present honesty.

Malet's successes over the next two years had intrigued Vidocq.
He made inquiries into Malet's background and then approached Count d'Anglars with the request that Chief Inspector Malet be transferred to the Sureté, where his unprecedented talents could be more successfully used in undercover work.

The Parisian Prefect of Police, Valery Lamarque, had been a little bitter, since Vidocq had tapped several of his most promising officers, but he was genuinely fond of Malet and wanted him to be successful.
He had endorsed the proposed transfer and promotion and accompanied Malet to M. d'Anglars' elegant house fronting the Place Vendôme, where he was to be informed of the promotion.

No one had been prepared for what had happened next.

Malet had flown into a rage of truly royal proportions, and the scene that he had thrown in the house of M. d'Anglars was one that was still discussed four years later.

He had crumpled the transfer papers, hurled them to the floor and ground them into the carpet with his heel. He demanded to know what he had done to deserve such an insult, and, fuming, offered his immediate resignation.
He begged to inform everyone present that he had left the prison at the age of fifteen, and felt no urge whatever to consort with criminals aside from protecting society against them, and he certainly had no desire to associate with criminals masquerading as honest citizens.

He told them all that if he ever were to lose his wits enough to wish to return to prison, he would murder someone who deserved it and be honestly thrown into jail.

At a nod from d'Anglars, M. le Prefet had taken Malet's arm and hustled him, still seething, away from there while d'Anglars did his best to soothe Vidocq, who wanted to challenge Malet to a duel. It had taken all of Lamarque's tact and charm over the course of a week to calm Malet down.

Things finally returned to normal.
Chief Inspector Malet remained with the regular Police, and the 12th arrondissement's subsequent dealings with the Sureté were handled exclusively by Malet's second in command, Senior Inspector Georges Plougastel.

Vidocq, and the Sureté, had a long memory for insults.
Malet suspected that if he did involve them, they would find some way to take this juicy case away from him. Dracquet was his meat and he did not want anyone else in on the kill. As M. le Prefet's stand-in, Malet had access to the roster of officers and the power to recruit them for special assignments. Malet knew some men he considered incorruptible; he would use them.

Saint
-Légère had suspected that something big was about to happen, and Ensenat had hinted at it before he was murdered. Dracquet's connections extended across Europe: it might be serious indeed. Malet had some informers he could tap, though he suspected that the informers would be afraid to go up against someone of Dracquet's stature.

On the other hand, Malet thought with an ominous smile, Dracquet had never had to come up against him before!
He had been praying for a chance to cross swords with the man, and it looked as though the chance had come at last.

Malet's faults did not extend to underestimating himself.
As Cheat-Death's chosen successor, he had mastered all the tools in the criminals' arsenal, and he was more adept at their use than the criminals were.

He smiled and closed the notebook.
Well. He had begun to spin his webs, and he would be watching them carefully. He bestowed the notebook in the breast pocket of his jacket and shuffled through the papers on his desk. Saint-Légère's reports, tied with string, were at the top. He would take them to that inn in Montmartre and review them that night.

He smiled as he set them to one side.
It would be pleasant to see Mme. de Clichy again. Inspector L'Eveque, her cousin, had always been fond of her, and had often spoken of taking Malet to meet her. Malet had managed to sidestep Christien's machinations. It was interesting that this case had made him cross her path.

She appeared to be an intelligent, charming and capable lady, and he had enjoyed talking with her.
He would take care to remove his sword before going into the inn, though, since he did not want to upset the blonde lady who was a co-owner. What was her name? Mlle. Franchotte, that was it. Possibly she had been assaulted at one point by an armed man. Malet would not frighten her.

But that would be in the evening.
He had the more routine concerns of the Prefecture at the moment.                                                                                                 

He lifted the first document.
It was the weekly report on the status of prostitution in the city, a matter of considerable exasperation and tedium to him. He sighed and began to read.